


an easy life

by lovages



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Chance Meetings, College Student Castiel, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 01:59:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8949214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovages/pseuds/lovages
Summary: Dean clears his throat, and starts scanning the items the man’s jumbled together on top of the counter. Advil. Chocolate ice cream. Frozen pizza. The guy tries to hide a sniffle behind his sleeve. Well. Clearly things are not going great. Best not to comment. Certainly not a good idea to flirt.





	

It’s a wonderful August afternoon when Dean meets him for the first time.

The summer’s mellowed out, and a gentle breeze sets in around the early evening. The weather is perfect. They get a precious few days like this. And Dean’s stuck at the register, scanning batteries and milk for an elderly woman.

“Have a nice day, Mrs. Moseley,” he smiles, even though she just glares and shakes her head at him. Over her shoulder, he can see Benny behind the pharmacy counter lounging in a chair. Lucky bastard.

The next customer steps up, and Dean greets the guy with automatic, manufactured cheer. “Hey, how’s it going? You find everything okay?”

“Yes, thank you.”

The deep, gravely voice sends a frisson through Dean, and it makes him pause and look up. The man in front of him is perusing the cover of one of the lurid magazines on the stand with a determined look, but Dean– well, Dean’s a little stunned. He loses his train of thought because he’s looking at an arrestingly handsome man he’s never seen before. There's something forlorn about him.

Gorgeous blue eyes meet his, and Dean can’t help but notice that they’re bloodshot and rimmed red. The expression on the man’s face is weary and exhausted, and Dean makes out the distinct tracks of dried tears over sharp cheekbones before an overgrown stubble takes over his fine jaw. Concern pricks at Dean, but he bites his tongue. It’s not his place. He’s just a regular retail robot.

Realizing he’s stopped to stare for longer than is polite, Dean clears his throat, and starts scanning the items the man’s jumbled together on top of the counter. Advil. Chocolate ice cream. Frozen pizza. The guy tries to hide a sniffle behind his sleeve. Well. Clearly things are not going great. Best not to comment. Certainly not a good idea to flirt.

“Do you have a CVS card?” Dean asks, falling back on habit and routine.

“No.” The guy pats his pockets for his wallet.

“Do you want one?” Dean smiles, trying to sell it. “It takes two minutes to sign up. You get a discount on the ice cream.”

The man narrows his eyes. “You’ll need my social…?”

“Nope.”

“Alright, then.”

“Awesome.” Dean slides the usual form over with a pen, and finishes making the bill while the man fills it out. A few moments later Dean trades the receipt for the form. He takes not of the name surreptitiously as he types in the information.

Castiel Novak. The address he’s filled in puts him in an apartment literally across the street from the store.

Dean’s pretty sure he’s not pronouncing _Castiel_ right. He tries really hard not to hope that he’ll be getting to see Castiel again. Shaking himself internally, Dean focuses on staying professional for the interaction as he hands Castiel his brand new rewards card, and rushes through explaining all the stupid rules and crap.

“Have a nice day,” he smiles, handing the bag over to Castiel. But Castiel looks miserable, still on the verge of tears and Dean can’t ignore it anymore. “Listen– I mean, are you okay?”

Castiel freezes for a tense moment, but his shoulders sag and he manages a rueful smile. “That obvious, huh?”

“I didn’t mean to – pry, I guess,” Dean starts, hackles rising as he hurries to apologize. He thinks better of it and shrugs. “It’s none of my business, but if you need anything…” he trails off, realizing the stupidity of his offer. He doesn’t get off work for hours, and even then he’s headed straight into a night shift at the Roadhouse. He can’t really do anything to help. So he shakes his head and says, “Happens to the best of us, man. Hang in there. You’re gonna be okay.”

God. If there was a way to come off more impotent and clumsy… Dean wishes the ground would open up and swallow him to spare everyone.

But Castiel just huffs, amused. He meets Dean’s gaze steadily, and smiles. It transforms him, and steals Dean’s breath away.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“Sure,” Dean murmurs reflexively, smiling like an idiot.

It’s much later in the evening when he finds himself still thinking about Castiel. He wonders how Castiel knew his name. When he changes out of his work clothes before he heads out, he catches sight of the badge on his shirt. Most people don’t bother to read the cashier’s name tag, but Dean supposes most cashiers don’t go around comforting strangers.

He slides his thumb over the black letters, thinking about the way his name sounded in Castiel’s rich, gravelly voice.

 

 

 

To Dean’s relief, that’s not the last he ever sees of Castiel.

Every now and then, Dean catches him perusing the aisles carefully, an intense stare on his face as he picks up every jar and box and roll, and reads all the minutiae about each thing. Sometimes Castiel is in and out in five minutes, grabbing granola bars and gum, or milk and honey, or band-aids and bread and candy. Other days are slower, and after much intense deliberation he chooses something from the meager pre-packaged comfort food offerings of the store: boxed mac and cheese, frozen lasagna, hot pockets, frozen pizza, ice cream, nutella, pepperidge farm cookies, and Dean’s personal favorite, Twinkies. If Castiel stops by during Dean’s evening shift, it’s usually to buy liquor and popcorn. Or barbecue flavored chips and a ranch dip. Dean wonders who Castiel is partying with, and wistfully hopes that someday it might be him.

Then he remembers that working three jobs (more or less) doesn’t really leave him with any time to have a personal life.

Dean usually stops whatever he’s doing to hang out at the counter so Castiel won’t have to wait. He’s even stopped chatting with Benny as soon as Castiel walks in, when he usually lets other customers to walk up to the counter before he does that.

He gets to make small talk with Castiel, which is nice. It helps him glean little things about Castiel, like the fact that Castiel is a student at the university. And like every other student on the planet, Castiel is pretty lazy about grocery shopping, so he ends up in CVS when he runs out of things like cereal and milk and condiments. Dean has to resist the urge to offer to cook Castiel a home-cooked meal when he hears the idiot has been surviving on Taco Bell and vending machine coffee.

If fate wills it, sometimes the store is empty except for Castiel, and Castiel isn’t in a hurry either. As the seasons change, those are Dean’s favorite moments. He can forget about the monotony and loneliness in his life as he juggles three jobs to support Sam through law school.

Castiel has a peculiar way of talking, like he’s not used to going so long in front of a willing audience. And he’s awkward. Sometimes he’s serious and bashful, and other times, he has a totally offbeat sense of humor and is adorably nerdy. Halfway through the first year since Castiel moved here, Dean starts to admit to himself that he has a crush.

No. Fuck it. He’s head over heels. All he gets is small glimpses, but he knows enough to have caught a bad case of the feelings. He’s seen Castiel at his best, clean-shaven, dressed in a suit that’s just a little too big for him, looking mouth-wateringly good.

(“You’re tie’s on backwards,” Dean points out one afternoon, licking his lips and looking away. He’s tempted to reach across the counter and fix it.

Castiel looks down, frazzled. “Oh. Thank you, Dean.” He grimaces in frustration, trying (and failing miserably) to fix the tie. “I hate ties, but I’m going to the job fair.”

Chuckling, Dean scans the stapler quickly, and bites the inside of his cheek so he won’t offer to fix it for Castiel. “Good luck,” he wishes sincerely.)

He’s also seen Castiel looking like he rolled out of bed on two hours of sleep. Honestly, Dean’s not sure if the cleaned up look or the sex hair-and-bee-pajamas are worse for his heart. Either way, he watches Castiel on the monitor like a stalker, and tries to come up with something smart to say. He never quite succeeds.

“Have a little too much fun?” he jokes, scanning and bagging Castiel’s purchases of the day: coffee filters, cocoa powder and brown sugar.

Castiel groans, picking up a pack of mini m&m’s before deciding against it. “Hardly.” He glares at the card reader. “Papers. And exams. Ten million of them all at once.”

“Ah, I see.” Dean surreptitiously gives him the employee discount. The receipt takes a nice, long time to print out. Looks like Castiel is going home with a slew of coupons. They’re all crap, and Dean knows most people throw them all away without a second glance, but whatever. It makes Dean feel good to give him something that might come in handy, even if he can’t help Castiel in any substantial way.

“Busy day?” Castiel asks, pawing through the phone chargers.

“Not too bad. A little boring without you.”

Dean mentally kicks himself. He’s been pretty good about not flirting with Castiel even though he flirts with almost every customer. Well, he charms the other customers. The only one he has any real interest in is Castiel.

Castiel just lets out a surprised laugh, and Dean finds himself smiling back, heart thumping. Their fingers brush when Dean hands him the bags and the receipt. Instead of just murmuring his usual thanks and leaving, Castiel looks at the receipt. Dean flushes.

“This doesn’t look right…” Castiel frowns. His cheeks go a little pink and his shoulders go rigid. “Thank you, but Dean, you shouldn’t have.”

“It’s nothing,” Dean insists, forcing himself not to mumble. “Your lucky day. No big deal.”

Castiel clutches the receipt to his chest, and it draws Dean’s attention to faded AC/DC shirt he’s wearing. How the hell did he miss that? It has to be the stupid, adorable bee pajamas. The bane of his existence are those smiling bees on the sunny yellow fleece pants.

“Oh. Okay.” Castiel sounds… disappointed? He looks mortified.

Dean’s heart sinks. Oh great. This is horrible. Before he has the chance to explain or understand, Castiel murmurs a thanks and practically flees the store.

  
  
  


“Yo, Winchester!”

Dean hoists the advent calendar he’s holding onto the top shelf at the Coffee Grind, and looks over his shoulder from his step stool. “Yeah?”

“Jo says you’re not getting out of the Thursday shift at CVS,” Ash calls, sticking his head out from the back room of the coffee shop.

“Dammit,” Dean grumbles. It was Thanksgiving; the one night he wanted off. He knows he can trust Jo to have his back, but there was only so much she can do when their asshole manager, Crowley, has a stupid vendetta against Dean.

Under normal circumstances, the store relies on employees volunteering to take the holiday shifts. And under normal circumstances, Dean’s usually by himself for the holidays, so he’d rather be working. Getting paid extra doesn’t hurt either. It’s usually a slow night, and he gets to hang out behind the counter and point people to the booze or back out the door because CVS still doesn’t stock emergency turkeys.

But, this is the one year Sam’s decided not to spend Thanksgiving with Jess’ family in California. Dean had really been looking forward to a full, proper dinner, and now it looks like he’s going to miss it. Even if it is only one of three jobs he currently shuffles between, he can’t afford to lose it.

And yeah, okay, Sam’s finally snagged a teaching assistant position at the university, so his tuition is waived. It’s definitely a huge financial burden off their shoulders. What he earns from it goes back into paying for books and things for school. It doesn’t even begin to cover living expenses though, and that’s why Dean’s still here.

He gets off the step-stool, glancing at the clock as he hurriedly ties on his apron. There’s already someone waiting in the drive-thru even though there’s about ten minutes before they open, but Dean hurries to check his phone anyway.

_sry dean, meg changed her mind :(_

It stinks of Crowley. Meg had zero plans, and seemed quite eager to swap places so she’d have a favor to call in, and because she’d be able to pocket the extra money. There’s no reason she’d change her mind. Dean sighs, going to shut his phone off and put it away, but it lights up with another text from Jo.

_looks like her evening opened up. u can get out at 6!!_

Dean whoops, startling a sleepy coworker. Six is not bad at all. He’d miss all the cooking, and they’d have to push it back a little, but he’d still be able to make it.

_she says you owe her big time. growly’s pissed._

Honestly, Dean doesn’t give a shit. He’ll happily fork over the day’s pay if it means he gets to have this dinner. He sends off a quick text thanking her, and turns his phone off.

“Worked it out?” Ash asks, when Dean steps up behind the counter looking less annoyed, and more ready to face another day in retail hell.

Dean nods, squaring his shoulders. “Yup. Open the doors. I’m ready for the caffeine zombies.”  
  


 

 

Here’s the thing: Dean’s alright with his lot in life.

He doesn’t hate his job. Things could be worse. At least CVS doesn’t do Black Friday. Yet.

And he’s happy to support Sam. Play a starring role in the show while his brother goes off to save the world or whatever.

But yeah, Dean doesn’t hate his jobs. For one, he doesn’t mind being on his feet most of the time. Barring the occasional off day, and the occasional asshole, he’s good with people. He knows how to turn up the charm, make small talk, flirt a little now and then. He remembers their names, how they like their coffee, or that it’s even the time of the month (in more ways than one) for certain people. It’s very good for raking in tips at both the Roadhouse and the coffee shop. The CVS… not so much.

At this point, it’s become second nature, so he just keeps it up anyway.

“Heya Sheriff,” Deans smiles.

Jody grins at him, plonking down a bag of Hostess donuts and some beer. “Do you live here?”

Dean chuckles at the sarcasm in her tone and shrugs. “I got bills to pay.”

“And I’m telling you I got a job for you.” She socks him in the arm playfully, but Dean just shakes his head and scans her things.

He’s heard it before, and he knows it’s an empty offer. He barely has a GED, and he certainly doesn’t have the brains for police work. He’s too much of a screw-up. He has a history. Jody has good intentions, but she can’t keep the promise she’s making, and Dean knows that. It’s not her fault, though.

The automatic doors slide open before Dean can reply. He lifts his head to greet the customer, smiling when he recognizes the person. His heart does a stupid flip at the sight of the familiar shock of dark hair. When he looks back at Jody, she’s got an eyebrow raised, and he struggles to pretend he’s not blushing.

“Say hi to Sheriff Hanscum for me,” Dean says, flashing a knowing smile as he bags the donuts and beer.

Jody opens her mouth, looking poised to tell him off sternly, but she changes her mind and sighs. “Take care of yourself, you hear me? Spoil yourself a little. You deserve it,” she says instead. When he nods, she reaches over the counter, she pulls him into a one-armed hug. “And I’m serious. Come talk to me about that job, okay?”

“We’ll see,” Dean deflects, returning the hug.

Jody sighs and boxes his ear affectionately before she leaves.

And then Dean’s alone in the store.

With his favorite regular.

Okay, so maybe he should get over his crush. He’s pretty sure he blew it a couple weeks ago, so it’s pointless.

Dean catches Castiel oscillating between the beer and wine aisles of the liquor section. It’s almost ten minutes before Castiel grabs a six-pack of hard lemonades, a bag of gummy bears, and a solitary toilet roll before moseying over to the counter. He’s wearing plaid pajamas, and a university hoodie.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, man,” Dean smiles. “Looks like it’s gonna be an interesting party.”

“Oh yes, it’s very traditional. I’ve got my sushi, my Mike’s hard lemonades, and I hope the gummy bears are cranberry-flavored.” Castiel eyes the bag critically. “They’ll go very nicely with my binge-watch of The Great British Bake-off.”

Dean huffs in amusement.

“How come you’re here, Dean? You should be spending Thanksgiving with your family, not working.” Castiel pauses, leaning against the counter between them. “I realize that might be a little insensitive. My apologies.” He burps softly. “You’re welcome to spend it with me if you want. I’d appreciate the company.”

That’s when Dean realizes Castiel is a little drunk. And lonely as hell. His heart pangs. He knows the feeling all too well. And if he stops to think about it, he’s sure Castiel is feeling wretched and pathetic on top of it, considering Castiel’s got no one better to invite than the store clerk at a CVS. He remembers that forlorn, mournful look on Castiel’s face the very first time they’d met. Dean had wanted to reach out, but he hadn’t. He wasn’t gonna make the same mistake again.

“Actually, I get off in a half hour,” Dean says lightly. “My brother and his girlfriend are cooking dinner. I got the turkey started before I left for work this morning, and I gotta say, I have this secret recipe that makes it just perfect. You should come.” He grins, a little teasing. “That is, if you’d prefer it to your traditional Thanksgiving of Netflix and sushi.”

Castiel stares at him. “And hard lemonades.”

“There will be beer at ours,” Dean offers. The seconds tick by, and Castiel doesn’t reply. “Look, I know it’s weird,” he starts. “You don’t have to–”

“I want to,” Castiel says in a rush. “I’d love to.”

Dean relaxes a little, and cracks a smile. “Alright. See you in thirty minutes.”

  
  
  


It should be weird, but it’s not.

Castiel comes back five minutes before Dean gets off work, dressed in jeans and bearing a fancy bottle of wine. He looks like he took a shower and sobered up.

“I didn’t want to crash your dinner empty-handed,” he explains, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Hard lemonades would’ve probably gone over better,” Dean jokes.

Castiel frowns. “You don't like wine? I was saving this bottle for my first paycheck.” He stops when he sees the car. “She’s yours?” he asks, giving the roof a reverent caress. “I’ve seen this car almost every day and wondered who she belongs to.”

Dean grins. “A beauty, ain’t she?”

Castiel hums in agreement, sliding into the passenger seat. He looks around, but doesn’t touch the tape deck or anything else. The five mile drive goes by in a short blur of small talk. Dean learns that Castiel is graduating in a couple weeks, and his heart sinks, but it doesn’t surprise him. This a suitcase university, and Castiel is a grad student. There’s no reason he’d stay in this tiny, rural town.

“What are you gonna do?” Dean asks.

Castiel shrugs. “Work, I suppose.”

“Here?” Dean stares at the road, trying to affect an air of casual interest.

“I’d like that. Sometimes my bathroom smells like weed because of my neighbors, but I like my apartment. I don’t want to move.”

Dean nods, hoping his relief is not too evident. He parks in the driveway of the townhouse he shares with Sam and Kevin and Charlie. He's trying to think of a way to explain Castiel to them when the door flies open and Sam steps out.

“Cas?” Sam says, looking confused. A moment later he smiles. “I didn’t know you’d be here! I thought you were going back home.”

“You two know each other?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, Cas was a tutor for that Math class I took last year,” Sam explains. “Thanks for the recommendation letter, man,” he adds to Castiel, who blushes a little and murmurs something self-deprecating. “Come on in. I gotta go grab some half and half.”

“Recommendation?” Dean asks, feeling distinctly like he’s missed a step.

“I thought Sam would be good for the position,” Castiel says, looking sheepish. “Since I got a better offer.”

“Wait, you gave Sam _your_ job?”

Castiel opens his mouth to object but then just sort of shuts up. “My old job. Not exactly, but yes. Something like that.”

Well, shit. Dean has no idea what to say to that.

Luckily, Jess steps in to introduce herself, and then she and Kevin put Castiel to work setting the table pretty quickly. Dinner is actually ridiculously delicious. The turkey smells divine, and Dean gorges himself on everything from the freshly baked rolls to the fluffy potatoes and the sweet mashed acorn squash.

At the table, Dean ends up sandwiched between Castiel and Sam, and it's really fun to watch Castiel and Charlie get on like a house on fire. Kevin and Sam talk loudly with each other over some issues with their classes, and Jess engages Dean in conversation about the TV shows they both watch. Now that Dean knows Sam was friends with the guy he’d been crushing on for about a year, Dean thinks it’s a little odd that Sam’s never had Castiel over before. When Castiel excuses himself to use the bathroom and doesn’t ask for directions, Dean realizes that Castiel’s been to their home before. Dean just wasn’t around for it. Figures.

“I went a little overboard with the pie,” Jess warns, and brings over four pies with Charlie’s help. “And I may have had an ulterior motive.” There’s apple and pumpkin and pecan and sweet potato, and Dean could kiss her. She grins when Dean whistles, low and appreciative. “Glad you’re impressed, brother-in-law.”

The way her voice is pitched, and her eyes are shining, and her grin is splitting her face– Dean freezes. She’s made the same joke before but. No. No way.

“You two–?” he starts and Sam laughs. Dean turns to him. “Did you?”

Sam puts his hands up in surrender, and Dean sees the ring. “She asked me, actually.”

“Holy shit.” Dean grabs Sam in a bear hug, laughing. “How did you get so lucky– you son of a bitch, holy _shit_!” Jess laughs and butts her way into the hug, and Dean wraps an arm around her as well. “About friggin’ time!” he cheers, and kisses her forehead.

“Thanks, Dean,” Sam says warmly, looking suspiciously like he’s gonna cry. For once, Dean gives him a pass.

“I’m so happy for you two,” Dean says, and he really means it. He loves Jess, and he honestly couldn’t think of anyone better for Sam.

“We’re feeling a little left out here,” Charlie says with a grin, and she drags Kevin and Castiel into the hug.

“I can’t breathe,” Kevin complains from where he’s stuck with his head in Sam’s armpit. Sam laughs and moves his arm around to hike Kevin closer.

Castiel ends up crushed between Jess and Dean. He starts out looking uncomfortable and uncertain, but then he grins when Jess laughs. “Congratulations,” he says warmly, and when he tries to look at Jess, he inadvertently ends up almost resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m very happy for both of you.”

They all end up sprawled on the couch, and Dean packs away five very large slices of pie. He feels a small, jealous prick of longing, because he wants what Sam and Jess have, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the joy he feels for them.

At one point, Jess falls asleep with her head on Sam’s shoulder and her feet in Dean’s lap. Charlie is out cold on the floor leaning against Castiel’s legs, and Kevin already went up to his room, and presumably to bed. Castiel is still up, but his eyes are glazed and he’s not really paying attention to _Miss Congeniality_ playing on the TV.

Dean nudges him with his foot. “Hey.”

Castiel swirls his glass and takes a sip of his wine and nudges him back. “Hey yourself.”

“You have a good time?”

Castiel smiles. “Thank you, Dean. Truly, I had a wonderful time.”

Dean feels warm and heavy with satisfaction. He’s here, surrounded by family and friends and _Cas_ , bellies stuffed and relaxing.

“Can you drive me home?” Castiel asks, a few moments later.

“You wanna leave?” Dean doesn’t mean for it to come out like that, all wounded and uncertain. It’s just– he thought they were having a good time.

“No, it’s not that,” Castiel stammers. “It’s just late, and I figured you were probably tired and wanted to go to bed.”

Sam stirs awake and says, “The couch is a fold-out, Cas. You should stay.”

Castiel hesitates, so Dean reaches out to pat his knee. “Yeah, Cas. Stay.”

And just like that, the resistance melts away and Castiel relaxes. He stays.

  
  
  


In the morning, Dean wakes up in his own bed and... kind of forgets. He wanders downstairs in his underwear and a sleep t-shirt, and stops short at the foot of the stairs when he sees Castiel still asleep on the couch. He’s folded his jeans carefully and left it on top of his shoes by his feet. Dean spends a few moments staring at the messy scribble of dark hair, the sleep lines marring Castiel’s cheek. The way his soft mouth is askew, blanket tucked just under his chin.

Then Dean shakes himself because he’d find the staring kinda creepy, and heads onward to the kitchen.

By the time he gets the coffee machine going, Castiel wakes up. Regrettably, Castiel’s dressed in jeans. He still looks half-asleep, though.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Castiel rasps, scrubbing a hand over his face and up, through his hair.

Dean passes him a mug and nudges the milk and sugar towards Castiel. He pretends not to pay attention as Castiel dumps heaped spoon after spoon… after spoon in his coffee. Dean likes his coffee black, but knowing how Castiel takes his makes him smile. They lean against the counter and wait until it’s cooled enough to drink.

“I didn’t know about you and Sam,” Dean says eventually.

Castiel nods. “We took the same class last year as well, and partnered on a project. I knew Sam had an older brother named Dean. I didn’t know you were the same Dean. It makes sense, though. If I could afford the Coffee Grind, we probably would have met.”

“Friends and family get to abuse the employee discount,” Dean says, half-teasing.

“We’re friends?”

Dean hesitates. Something about the way Castiel asks it makes him feel like… Castiel’s not used to having friends. And as much as Castiel is an awesome guy who deserves friends, Dean would really rather they were the kinda friends that kissed and had sex and cuddled in Dean’s bed upstairs. He’s been wanting to kiss Castiel for some time now.

“I mean…” Dean shrugs, unable to bring himself to give up those hopes completely.

“I’d like that,” Cas says warmly. He looks so goddamn pleased that Dean’s heart swells in affection. There’s no way Dean’s ruining that by thinking with his dick.

“Good.”

There’s a few beats of silence, and then Castiel sighs. “Can I – I’d like to tell you something. It’s a little depressing. Do you remember the day we met? I don’t know if you realized, but I had been… upset, and you told me everything was going to be alright.”

“Yeah,” Dean says slowly, like he has to think about it. How could he ever forget?

“My parents had just kicked me out.” Castiel chuckles, rueful and embarrassed. “I came out to them, even though I knew they wouldn’t take it very well. It might not have gone so badly, but I also told them that I didn’t want to be a doctor. You see, we’re a family of doctors. Both my parents are doctors, and so are all my siblings. It’s just what we do. And I wanted to be a lawyer, instead. That was the proverbial straw.”

Dean’s no stranger to obstinate, controlling parents. He’s relieved his father had passed before he had the crisis with his sexuality. Dean doesn’t think he would’ve had the balls to come out and defy his father. That was all Sam. Dean did what he was told, even if he didn’t want to. So even now that he’s comfortable in his own skin and sure of himself, he appreciates that his family has been accepting of who he is. He knows that he’s lucky, and he really feels for Castiel. He just struggles with expressing anything heartfelt like that.

“That sucks,” Dean offers lamely, thumbing at the lip of his mug. “I’m sorry.”

“You were the first person to encourage me after I left. Everyone else was determined to let me know that I would fail,” Castiel continues. “It helped. When you said I would be alright, I really believed you, Dean.”

Dean blushes. He feels unprepared and underdressed for this conversation, so he tries to hide behind his mug.

“I just wanted to thank you for that,” Castiel explains, speaking hastily. He looks just as embarrassed as Dean feels.

“You don’t have to, Cas,” Dean manages a few moments later. “Listen, you ever need anything, a place to crash or whatever, just call, okay?” Considering what Castiel has done for Sam, it’s the least Dean can do. And honestly, it’s not even just about that. Castiel is a genuinely nice guy, who’s clearly alone, and a little off-beat. He’s been dealt a bad hand. Dean wants to help him because he likes Castiel. And, he gets the feeling that Castiel is quite deserving. He deserves all the good things.

Castiel opens his mouth to reply but Charlie bounds into the kitchen and interrupts them. Dean has to fight to defend his mug of coffee, and he’s both relieved and a little disappointed by the intrusion. He looks over and sees Castiel smiling, and can’t help but smile back.

  
  
  


_Hello, Dean. Would you like to have dinner some time this week?_

Dean stares at his phone, trying to decipher the tone of the invitation. He’d exchanged numbers with Castiel after the thanksgiving dinner, but he’d long since given up any hopes he’d had for anything. Aside from a short exchange thanking him, he hadn’t heard anything from Castiel over the past two weeks. Castiel hadn’t even dropped by at the CVS for his usual odds and ends. Dean had considered breaking the silence a few times, but as time passed everything he thought of sounded stupid.

So, is this a friendly thing? Is Cas asking him out? Dean’s not sure. He can usually gauge a woman’s interest in him, but a lifetime of conditioning has him second guessing interactions with men. Especially when said men are gorgeous and intelligent and weird and funny like Castiel.

Sighing, Dean decides to play it safe. It makes sense to think of Castiel as a friend considering the last conversation they’d had. He’s tapping out a _sure_ when Castiel sends another text.

_My apologies for the prolonged silence on my part. I had to study for finals, but I would really like to celebrate the end of the semester with you._

Despite himself, Dean smiles.

_sure thing, cas. when and where?_

Castiel’s reply is quick. _How do you like Fatty’s?_

  
  
  
  


So it turns out Castiel is a total lightweight. Two beers in and he turns into a smiley, flirty lush. It’s kind of seriously adorable.

“The potato salad here is very good,” he says as he flags the waitress down for another round. “Although, it’s only a salad by the very loosest definition of the word. It’s deep fried potatoes suffocated and drowned in chipotle mayonnaise. Would you like to split a side of it with me? It’s a very big serving.”

Dean drains the last of his beer. “Sure.”

It’s a nice change of pace. Taking the evening off, just unwinding with Castiel. The pre-date jitters faded when they started to relax over the first drink, and then Dean had to remind himself that it was not a date. No matter how good Cas looked with his tousled hair glistening fresh from the shower, dressed in dark jeans and a faded Arctic Monkeys t-shirt. Dean has to try very hard not to think about how he wants to spend hours mouthing at the collarbones cutting the soft worn fabric.

Castiel grins and orders for them both. There’s a flush high on his cheeks already. He takes a huge gulp of his third beer, and looks like he’s steeling himself. His eyes get real wide and he says, “I have a confession, Dean. I was worried about tonight. I was afraid you’d misunderstand and bring Sam with you.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asks, heart thumping far too loudly, because, well. Apparently this is happening.

Castiel leans closer. “The milk is about thirty five cents more expensive at CVS,” he says in a conspiratorial whisper. “It doesn’t seem like much, but it adds up over time, you know.”

Dean frowns, a little disappointed. He’s not sure what that’s got to do with anything. “... Alright.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and sighs loudly in exaggerated exasperation. “It’s worth it,” he says, and clinks his bottle against Dean’s and winks. “You’re worth it.”

Dean drops his head, chuckling. It’s the clumsiest line ever. He can feel his face heat up with a blush, but he tries to anchor himself with his hands clasped around the cool glass holding his beer.

“That was a flirtation,” Castiel supplies helpfully.

“Yeah, I got that.” This time the laugh shakes Dean’s shoulders. “How much has it added up to? Like five bucks? I’m worth five bucks? You flatter me, Cas.” Honestly, he can’t remember the last time he felt so good. Just a plain, openly good, happy giddiness. No smoke and mirrors seduction, no games, no pretenses.

Castiel narrows his eyes and studies him for a moment. “I think you liked it,” he decides.

Dean raises his eyebrows in challenge, but the effect is ruined by the fact that he can’t stop grinning like a fool. Determined to give Castiel a little bit of a hard time, Dean shrugs. He expects Castiel to push back and come on stronger, but Castiel just gives him a sidelong smile, and relaxes. They finish their beers and pick their way through the (surprisingly delicious) potato salad slowly, and Dean finds himself talking about things. Sharing his hopes for what he wants to do once Sam graduates. Confessing that he’s applied to Singer Auto across the street from the CVS.

Castiel gets this faraway look and smirks. A moment later he admits, “You’d look good covered in grease.”

Dean laughs and shoves Castiel playfully. Castiel sways away and back, closer into Dean’s side. The air between them grows charged with the tension, but there’s no urgency accompanying the anticipation. Castiel licks his lips, and Dean’s gaze drops to his mouth, and shit, okay. Dean might’ve spoke too soon. He really, really wants to kiss Castiel right now.

“I think,” Castiel says, swaying back to sitting straight on his stool. “I think we should leave.”

“Okay,” Dean agrees. He feels pleasantly warm and heavy from the food and drink and company. He’s looking forward to kissing Castiel goodnight. At the very least.

Castiel fights him for the check and wins because he surprises Dean by hooking his foot around the back of Dean’s calf.

“You fight dirty,” Dean grumbles, but Castiel just smiles back serenely as they wait for their server to return with the receipt and Castiel’s card. He keeps their feet intertwined until they get to their feet.

The cold air nips at them as they step outside. It’s a clear night, illuminated by the day old snowfall sparkling white. The pavements are mostly clear but Castiel stumbles anyway, so Dean reaches out to steady him. Castiel grips his hand tightly instead. Dean decides to walk Castiel home since he lives barely a block away.

They’re at the door to the lobby, and Dean leans back against the wall beside it. He’s wondering if he should lean in and try for a kiss when Castiel lets go of his hand and takes a step back.

“Will you come inside?” Castiel asks, fishing his keys out of his coat pocket. He swipes the fob over the reader and the door clicks open. When Dean hesitates, Castiel adds, “I have Netflix. And coffee. Totally innocent.” He pauses. “Maybe.”

Dean can’t help but smile again. “C’mon, you dork,” he murmurs, pressing a hand to the small of Castiel’s back and stepping through the door with him. Castiel rewards him with a grin.

The ride up to the third floor in the elevator is quiet as Castiel checks his phone. “You were right. Dr. Sexy _is_ on Netflix,” he informs Dean seriously. The hallway to Castiel’s apartment smells like curry, and one of Castiel’s neighbors is having a loud argument. He unlocks the door after some fumbling and flings it open inwards.

Dean’s still laughing when he follows Castiel inside. He jumps slightly when the door slams shut behind him. There’s a hand on his cheek a moment later, turning him towards Castiel, and then Castiel’s lips are on his, soft and warm. It doesn’t last nearly long enough, but Castiel pulls back with a hot sigh that puffs against Dean’s chin.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” His eyes are dark, focused on Dean’s lips. He sways closer and Dean’s ready for it. He winds an arm around Castiel’s waist and crushes him closer, breathing in sharply before he pushes for more, lips parting to tease against the seam of Castiel’s mouth.

  
  
  


Dean wakes up with a groan. His head throbs in protest.

There’s a flash of a memory, scorching hot– Castiel pressed against him on the couch, half on his lap, an erection rubbing against his thigh, the hot brand of his fingertips squeezing Dean’s pec, sending a hot throb of arousal straight south. Castiel’s hoarse, whimpering demands of, “Dean, yes, please let me, let me–”

  
Dean groans before he can stop himself. He’s actually too hungover to be horny. He knows he’s in Castiel’s bed, and a glance over his shoulder tells him that he’s alone. A stab of panic makes Dean sit up. His stomach turns and lurches, and he has to fight the wave of nausea.

He tries to retrace his steps. He remembers going home with Castiel. He remembers Castiel opening a bottle of wine. He remembers getting through half the bottle, and he remembers turning to kiss Castiel when one of the nurses kissed Dr. Sexy. It had seemed like a great idea at the time.

And now, Dean’s likely fucked it all up, and chased Castiel out of his own bed. He _liked_ Castiel a lot. He’d wanted it to be… something. And maybe the worst part is that he doesn’t even remember the good, sexy stuff. He can’t even choose not to regret it if they’d had a great time because he has no idea how good or terrible it was. He has no idea what Castiel is thinking about it, or how Castiel feels. Time to get outta here.

Dean throws the covers back, and is surprised to find he’s not naked. He’s wearing the plain dark t-shirt and the boxers he’d worn last night. The bed creaks loudly as he sits up. He gets to his feet and finds his jeans neatly folded and placed on a chair. His jacket is draped over the back. His shoes are placed neatly in front  of the chair on the floor with the socks folded on top.

… Weird.

Dean pulls his jeans on and stuffs the socks in his pockets as he steps unsteadily into his shoes. He snags the jacket and opens the door to Castiel’s room, and nearly walks into a sleepy Castiel. He’s wearing those damn bee pajamas and no shirt.

“Cas. Hey.”

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel mumbles. He’s rubbing his eyes and suppressing a yawn, but when he finishes, he smiles at Dean. “I think I’m still a little drunk. Did you sleep well?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean looks down at himself, then at the wall behind Castiel. Anywhere but at Castiel. He doesn’t know how to ask the question. He didn’t know which question to ask.

Castiel frowns, studying him for a moment. “We didn’t have sex.”

“Oh, good,” Dean huffs, relieved. He sags against the doorjamb and drops his jacket. “I mean, not that I didn’t–”

Castiel leans forward and kisses his cheek. “I know what you meant. We were too drunk to consent. I was quite enthusiastic, but– it was actually your idea to wait, and I think it was the right decision. The futon is too uncomfortable to inflict on anyone so I let you have my bed. I’m sorry, I should’ve probably left a note explaining everything.”

“It’s alright,” Dean says, reaching out to cup Castiel’s cheek, smiling when Castiel leans into the touch and closes his eyes. This feels nice. He kisses Castiel’s forehead and Castiel wrinkles his nose.

“I should brush my teeth before I try to kiss you.” Castiel wraps an arm around Dean’s hips and tugs him closer. “I’ve got a spare toothbrush for you, if you want. Can you stay for breakfast?”

Dean starts to say yes before he even thinks about it before he remembers he’s got an afternoon shift. “Shit, what time is it?”

  
  


 

It’s good. Life is good. Better than Dean expects it to be.

It’s hard for Dean to remind himself to stay guarded because when it really gets going with Castiel, things are so good Dean has to stop and pinch himself to make sure he isn’t dreaming. It’s been three weeks and Dean has already slept over twice.

So Dean’s mattress is memory foam, but Castiel has the bigger bed. And no roommates. It’s wonderful to wake up in the morning to an armful of grumpy Castiel, and Dean never thought he’d feel that way about someone he hadn’t had sex with yet.

“Move, Cas. My arm’s asleep,” Dean grumbles sleepily, trying to extricate himself from Castiel’s Octo-grip.

Castiel just moves his head to rest on Dean’s chest, and then his crazy hair is tickling Dean’s nose. It’s not too bad though, because if Dean so much as touches Castiel’s hair, he starts to rumble like a purring cat.

“Mm, that feels good. You hungry?” Castiel asks, skimming a hand up Dean’s naked torso.

Dean’s equal parts relieved and frustrated that Castiel hasn’t discovered his morning wood yet. “I could eat,” he says lightly, turning his back on Castiel.

Immediately Castiel spoons him, molding to his back and mouthing at his shoulder. “Love how these freckles taste.”

“That’s creepy,” Dean teases. “You sound like a cannibal.”

“I’d love to eat you up, Dean,” Castiel murmurs, pushing a thigh between Dean’s legs to spread them. “Or is it ‘eat you out?’” There’s two flimsy boxers separating Castiel’s half hard cock from rubbing right up against Dean’s crack.

And damn if the words don’t go straight to Dean’s cock, as he pictures Castiel’s head bowed between his legs, taking his fill. Castiel’s palm flattens over Dean’s lower abdomen right where the arousal pools, and Dean has to grip Castiel’s wrist or risk succumbing to the obvious seduction.

“Thought we were getting breakfast,” Dean complains.

Castiel relents. “Okay. Let's get you fed,” he sighs, but then he tugs Dean’s head back a little roughly by his hair, just rough enough to make Dean pant. “Then it’s my turn.” He picks a spot low at the juncture of Dean’s throat and bites and sucks until he draws the blood up in a blossom of a bruise.

Other times, it’s hard to believe Castiel, who comes off as shy and kind of a sore thumb, is a goddamn tiger in the sack. (Or at least, his foreplay game is outta this world. It definitely leaves Dean aching and hungry for more, waking up from filthy dreams and jerking desperately in the shower.)

“I’ll have a double tall latte, please.”

Dean looks up, startled to hear Castiel’s voice. The morning rush has dwindled without Dean realizing, and now Castiel is standing in front of him in a freaking sweater vest under a flasher trench coat. The look does interesting things to Dean; he’s torn between horny and amused.

“Hey, Cas. Thought the Coffee Grind was too expensive for you,” he teases, ringing up Castiel’s order. He goes to start making it and Castiel follows him along the counter.

“I wanted to see you,” Castiel says simply. Just like that. So sincere and open, like it’s no big deal. The meaning is plain. _I miss you_.

“Aw, Cas, I missed you too.” Dean means for it to be teasing, but it comes out all shy and stupid, and both he and Castiel blush. As a joke, he scrawls his number on the cup before he hands it to Castiel.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yup.” Dean watches as Castiel walks away and then calls, “Hey, Cas!” His heart skips a beat and does a funny swoop thing all at once when Castiel turns to look at him, head cocked to the side adorably. Dean winks, and says, “Call me.”

It’s totally worth drawing the attention of half the coffee shop to see the way Castiel gets all pink and smiley and just _glows_.

  
  
  
  


It’s a Monday morning when Dean gets fired.

Sam normally takes the bus to the campus, but this one time he’s running late and there’s a quiz he can’t miss and Dean thinks, _fuck it_ , and drives him. It barely adds five minutes to the drive back to the CVS, and as Dean hurries in, the clock ticks over to show he’s exactly two minutes late.

He shakes the snow out of his hair and gets about thawing his icy fingertips as he heads straight for the back room, but stops short at the snap of fingers. Crowley.

“Not so fast, Dean-o.” Crowley gives him an oily smirk. “You’re late.”

Dean grits his teeth, and forces himself to relax and apologize. “Yeah, about that…”

“Save it,” Crowley interrupts, looking bored. “I can’t have employees trooping in and out of here whenever they please.”

For a moment, Dean panics. He knows this is personal. He knows Crowley’s had it out for him. He knows that trading shifts with Meg had pissed Crowley off, but it went beyond that. This is what Dean for getting too drunk at the unofficial work Christmas party (they’d all piled into Molly’s and split the tab) and (allegedly) making out with the boss. He’d gone and pissed Crowley off, and honestly, the smarmy bastard had just been waiting for the opportunity. The only reason Dean hasn’t given notice here is because he’s waiting for Singer Auto to give him a start date.

“Fine,” Dean says. “I quit.”

It’s an impulsive decision.

It’s worth the look on Crowley’s face, even if it makes the panic rise anew in Dean’s chest. He knows they’ll be fine. It’s short term. He’ll pick up a few extra shifts at the Roadhouse, and the Coffee Grind. He’ll make it work.

“Don’t come crawling back when you need me again!” Crowley calls after him as he walks away, clearly enraged.

Dean probably shouldn’t but he flips Crowley off over his shoulder. “I won’t.”

A weight lifts off Dean’s shoulders as he steps outside. He catches sight of Castiel crossing the street, and his heart does a funny flip. And that’s when he realizes Castiel is making his way over to the store. Well, it’s a little bittersweet now, but it’s hard to focus on that with Castiel looking at him like he hung the moon.

“Hey,” Dean greets, taking the hand Castiel reaches out to him.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel glances over Dean’s shoulder curiously, and then back at Dean. “What are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here?”

Castiel swings their joined hands gently. “I’m out of cereal.”

“Come on, I'll buy you breakfast and drive you to Walmart,” Dean offers, tugging Castiel towards his car.

It’s a little awkward when they run into Lisa at the IHOP a block away. Well, it’s awkward for Dean. He’s pretty sure Castiel has no idea that Dean’s slept with her. And Dean intends to keep it that way. Castiel is oblivious to the tension. Lisa just smiles all professional-like, and seats them at the booth. Castiel yawns as he peruses the menu seriously. Looking at him is almost enough to relax Dean.

“So I got fired,” Dean says nonchalantly, eyeing the new seasonal pancake flavors on the special menu.

Castiel’s head snaps up. “What happened?”

Dean hangs his head. “I was late.”

“And you were fired for that? Seems unreasonable.”

Dean snorts. “That’s Crowley. Whatever. Hated the job anyway.”

Castiel reaches out to thread their fingers together. “Do you want to split the chocolate chip pancakes with me? We’ll get the combo. Eggs, bacon and sausage?”

For a moment, Dean’s not sure how to react. He’d braced himself for a useless platitude. For Castiel to comfort and reassure him without knowing if things would really be alright.

“Yeah,” he says, because what the hell. “Sounds good.”

Castiel orders a coffee as well. Dean gets an OJ. They sit there for a moment after Lisa leaves with their order and Dean feels out of sorts.

Maybe this isn’t a problem to Castiel. Maybe the guy has problems of his own. He's distracted. After all, he’s putting himself through school, about to graduate, and looking for jobs himself. Dean was stupid to think that this would even be a blip on the radar. Besides, Dean doesn't want to talk about it. He hates talking about things. That’s Sam’s bag.

“Do you want to come to my apartment after?” Castiel asks, squeezing Dean’s hand a few moments later. “I can help you look for jobs. Or help you update your resume. Or we can just relax. Whatever you need.”

Oh. The weird tightness in Dean’s chest melts away. He feels stupid for ever feeling like– it was a stupid doubt. Castiel was thoughtful to a fault. He cared about people, not just Dean.

“I got eight hours to kill,” Dean grinned. “We’ll do more than talk.”   
  
  


 

 

The next day, Dean gets fired from the Coffee Grind.

It’s a blow to his confidence. He knows Crowley’s behind it, so he doesn’t say anything to the apologetic manager of the little coffee shop. It has to be Crowley. He just can’t prove it. And even if he could, there was no point. It’s a college town. Baristas, or cashiers, or whatever, came a dime a dozen. No one was going to that kind of trouble to get Dean hired again.

All he had left was the Roadhouse. And Auto Singer, if he ever got officially offered the job.

Sam’s sympathetic, which sucks all kind of balls. The kid is quick to reassure him because of course he is.

“Dean, it’s fine. I’ve been saving up. I can handle the bills for a month.”

It’s about the last thing Dean wants to hear so he doesn’t even bother dignifying that with a response. He gets in the car and drives. It’s a cold, crisp day, and between the rumble of the engine, and the way the ice crunches under the tires, Dean relaxes. But after about ten minutes Dean can’t even enjoy the call of the open road. He can’t afford the gas.

He wants to go to Castiel, but the convocation is today. Castiel’s finally graduating. It’s his day. Dean’s not gonna go into his bullshit when Castiel should be celebrating.

Despite that, he’s at Castiel’s apartment before he can stop himself.

Dean spends a few minutes in the parking lot, weighing his options. He could go upstairs and fall into Castiel’s waiting arms. Watch a movie, be comforted. Or he can cross the street, march into Auto Singer and demand an answer. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, nervous, and then decides. Fuck it.

He crosses the street before he can talk himself out of it.

The bell above the door chimes when he pushes it open, but no one seems to take notice. There’s a crash from somewhere further in the shop, a muffled curse and some laughter– then the sound of a door being pushed open.

Dean’s heart sinks. That’s not Bobby Singer.

The lanky man smiles. It’s endearing, and a little puerile. “Hey there. What can we do for ya?”

“Um,” Dean says intelligently. “Well. I actually applied for a job here a while ago…”

“Mhmm, let me just look for that. Should be lying around here somewhere. I’m Garth, by the way, and you are… ?”

“Dean.”

“You got a last name, Dean?”

This isn’t going well. “Winchester.” Dean fidgets. “You know, I spoke to Bobby Singer when I came in here last, so he knows all this stuff. It’s kinda– is he in? I just wanna ask if–”

The door swings open with another curse, and this time it’s Bobby Singer. He looks irate, covered in grease and sweat, and what looks like mustard. Dean already knows the answer as the older man glares at him from behind the counter.

“I remember you, kid,” Bobby says gruffly. “Look, it’s nothing personal, but that position’s already been filled.”

Dean lets his head hang, fists curling at his sides. Dammit.

Still, he can’t forget his manners. This opportunity came at Ellen’s recommendation and she has always been a kind, generous boss. At this point, his best option is to work his way up to a more permanent position, and he’s sure she’ll let him. For now though, Dean forces himself to look up, step forward and shake Bobby Singer’s hand.

“I understand. Thanks for the opportunity anyway.” Dean swallows, and even manages a smile in Garth’s direction.

“Dean?” It’s Sheriff Mills.

Dean freezes, but he also catches the way Singer stiffens in surprise. How long had she been here?

“Heya, Jody,” Garth calls cheerfully.

Dean stays rooted to the spot in mortification. Maybe she hadn’t heard any of that.

Bobby nods by way of greeting. “Jody.”

Sheriff Mills heads straight over to Dean. “Kid, you’re looking for a job? Why didn’t you tell me? I told you to call me!” She glances at Bobby. “And you. You turned him away?” she demands.

“Look, it’s uh,” Bobby starts, looking sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck and sighs.

“‘Complicated?’ My ass. This is the Winchester kid Ellen’s always talking about,” Sheriff Mills says pointedly.

Bobby goes visibly pale. “Thought his name was Sam.”

“They’re brothers! This is the older one, Dean. And how many unrelated Winchesters do you think we've got running around in a town this small? And even if he wasn’t, I better not hear that this has something to do with Crowley.”

A beat of stunned silence follows Sheriff Mills’ tirade, during which Bobby decidedly does not look at her or meet her gaze.

“Fine,” he huffs. “Whatever. You’re hired, son. You start Monday.” He glares at Sheriff Mills. “You come in here just to bust my balls or you actually got any business?”

“In a minute,” Sheriff Mills says, still annoyed. “Dean,” she continued, turning him around to face her. “I have to know. You quit working for Crowley, right?”

Dean nods, not trusting himself to speak. He might've just gotten a job. So yeah, he wasn't gonna open his big, dumb mouth and confess he’d gotten fired.

“Why didn't you just come to me?” she asks, brows pinched in concern. “I told you I had a job for you.”

At that, Dean’s throat unsticks. Guilt wells up within him. Sheriff Mills has been offering him a job for over a year now and he’s rebuffed her. And in spite of that, she vouched for him. She fought for him. She deserves an explanation.

“I just didn't think,” he mumbles, ashamed. He’s not good enough, but at this point he can't bring himself to say it. “I can't be a cop, Sheriff Mills.”

She smacks him upside the head. “For such a smart kid, you sure are an idiot. I wasn't gonna force you to do something you didn’t want. I just wanted you out from under that douchebag Crowley’s thumb. Guy’s bad news.”

“Oh.” Well, there’s no disputing one thing. He’s an idiot.

Sheriff Mills rolls her eyes. Her voice softens as she cups his cheek and adds, “You don't have to do everything alone, alright? We’ve got you. Small town like this– we gotta have each other's back.”

Sufficiently chastised, Dean nods. He’s still a huge jumble of embarrassment and gratitude. He can't bring himself to look at her. “Yes, Sheriff Mills.”

“It’s Jody,” she says, tipping his chin up. “And you’re welcome.”

The smile she gives him tears him up inside, but somehow Dean manages not to cry.

  
  
  


 

They’re having dinner at Fatty’s, because no one thought to pick a better venue for Castiel’s graduation dinner.

They’re all shitty friends. Castiel deserves better. Actually, Dean’s pretty sure this is his job. They haven’t sat down and talked about it in any certain terms, but he doesn’t think Castiel is the kind who’s in it for some friends with casual non-penetrative sex deal. So, Dean’s almost ninety-five percent sure he’s Castiel’s boyfriend. And so planning this dinner was his job.

Seeing Castiel walk up to the stage and receive his diploma is a thrill. Dean’s chest swells with pride, and a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite name yet– God, he’s sick with affection for the fool. Before Dean realizes it, he’s on his feet, whooping and clapping as Castiel’s name echoes across the stadium. Sam stands as well, so Dean felt a little better about the realization that slammed him seconds ago. Castiel glanced their way, stormy blue eyes brightening as they met Dean’s, his lips lifting in a gummy smile and...

Yep. Dean’s in love with him.

This is going to hit him so hard when Castiel leaves.

Because of course Castiel was gonna leave. There’s no way he’d stick around in this small town. Especially not for someone like Dean, who had zero future prospects. Who struggled to get a job as a freaking waiter. Even the damn pizza place had turned him down. It was a small consolation that Auto Singer came through.  

No, this moment was about Castiel.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel leans towards him, features softened by concern.

Sam, Charlie and Castiel’s friend, Gabriel, are busy arguing loudly. They don’t notice when Dean scoots closer to Castiel, metal legs of his barstool screeching across the floor.

“Nothing. I’m proud of you, Cas.”

Castiel hesitates, but decides to let it go. He licks his lips and smiles warmly. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Hey.”

“Dean.”

Fucking hell, he loves the way Castiel says his name.

“Can I kiss you?”

Castiel grins, all gummy and adorable, cheeks flushing pink. “Here?”

“Now,” Dean nods.

“Alright,” Castiel says, and closes his eyes.

Dean savors the moment. He memorized the dark shadows of Castiel’s eyelashes, the glisten of his lips still wet from a sip of beer, the color in his cheeks, the nervous bob of his adam’s apple… the way he breathes in when Dean leans closer and kisses him.

Castiel cups his face with both hands, kissing back with a satisfied hum. He rests his forehead against Dean’s, dodging Dean’s attempt to kiss him again with a chuckle.

“Wait, wait, please, Dean. I have some news.”

Castiel clears his throat and draws back a little, putting a few more inches between them. Now that they’re not breathing each other’s air, Dean’s head clears. The world is a little less sweeter, a little more colder, and only getting worse the longer he’s not pressed up against Castiel.

“Okay,” he says, taking a steadying breath.

Castiel takes his hands, squeezing them. “I got a job.”

It’s happening.

Dean forces himself to shove the dread and disappointment bubbling up inside him. “That’s– fuck, that’s awesome, Cas! Congratulations!”

He leans in for another kiss, because if they’re kissing, they’re not talking and Dean can deal with this later. He can celebrate tonight properly for Castiel’s sake, like he’s supposed to, and not be a selfish asshole.

But Castiel stops him. “Thank you, Dean, but there’s more. It’s in Chicago. Once I get a car, the commute is an hour from here.”

“That’s fine, Cas. Do what you gotta do.” It hurts to say it, but Dean isn’t gonna hold Castiel back. “You just gotta move–”

Away. And they’d be too far apart because Dean can’t afford to haul ass to Chicago. And they’ll only meet on the weekends, but Castiel will get busy, or Dean will fuck up, and they’ll drift apart. And then Castiel will meet someone else there. Someone better.

“I’ve considered it,” Cas admits, ducking his head.

Dean’s heart sinks. “You should. And hey?”

Castiel looks up.

Dean forces a grin. “We should get outta here, babe.”

  
  
  


 

It’s been a mild winter. They’re two weeks into December and there are still some patches of green in the lawns. Dean wraps his hand around the bottle of lube in his coat pocket and concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other.

The walk from Fatty’s to Castiel’s apartment is short. Leaving Sam, Charlie and Gabriel behind had been easy. Mostly because Sam and Gabriel were still arguing and Charlie was busy hitting on a cute bartender.

Castiel’s shoulder bumps into his and he looks up. And catches sight of his– boyfriend’s? Well, for now, at least, his boyfriend’s handsome profile. Not for the first time Dean thinks, Castiel has a face that was made to be admired. He’s so effortlessly beautiful like this, chin tucked into a scarf, one eyebrow arched as he studies the pavement, deep in contemplation.

Dean loves him.

It’s only been three weeks since they first kissed. Since Castiel took him out. Since he first started to learn things about Castiel– but that’s not true, is it? Dean’s known for about a year. He’s known for a year that Castiel is sweet and kind and awkward and intense and loves pb&j and honey and drinks 2% milk and uses a coconut-vanilla scented shampoo and… now he knows the texture of Cas’ hair, and the way his mouth tastes in the morning, the innate essence of Castiel that clings to his clothes and sheets, and how he likes his coffee.

“What is it?” Castiel asks.

“Huh?”

“What are you thinking about?”

_You. How much I love you. How much I'm going to miss you._

Dean shakes his head. He opens his mouth and realizes he hasn’t thought of a lie. Castiel watches in some amusement until Dean asks, “Can I spend the night?”

Castiel’s eyes widen, disbelieving and earnest. “You want to stay?”

Dean grins. “I wanna get in your pants, yeah. And I’d like it if you didn’t kick me out after.”

Castiel blushes. He’s so sincere. “I would never kick you out.”

Dean just shakes his head, still smiling. He didn’t bother arguing or insisting he was kidding. Castiel is sweet. That’s what makes things so much harder.

This night is going to be different. Dean knows it is because he’s made up his mind.

Because he pined after Cas for almost a year and a half, but here in the real world, it’s only been three weeks. And three weeks is nothing to someone like Castiel, who has prospects and a future. Dean is determined to make this relationship count, but he isn’t gonna hold Castiel back. As much as it hurts now, he knows in the long run he’ll be content to just be a nice, sweet memory.

Something for Castiel to reminisce about fondly– that affair he had with the guy from the corner store before he graduated.

And if Dean gains one awesome night of pretending he has a future with Castiel, go wherever Castiel went, then, well. He’s only human.

They get on the elevator and Castiel takes his hand. They’re not alone. The woman smiles at them, practically glowing.

“I’m sorry, Cas, I can’t resist. You two are so adorable together,” she says.

“Thanks, Nora,” Castiel murmurs, smiling at Dean like the sun shone out his ass. “How is Tanya?”

Dean struggles to control his blush as they make small talk. He’s still new to being okay with people knowing about him. In a way, it almost feels strange _not_ to have an internal freak out.

“Dean,” Castiel says, stepping out of the elevator. Third floor. They’re here.

Dean stumbles through the slowly closing doors, and follows Castiel to his apartment. Where they’re going to have sex for the first time. Well. There have been handjobs and blowjobs and that one time Cas switched things up and ate him out… and Dean learned he could come practically untouched.

This is the first time Cas is going to fuck him.

When they kiss, Dean climbs into Castiel’s lap. They fit together. It sets off an ache in Dean’s chest. By the time Castiel presses him into the bed, kissing him slow and deep, Dean feels shivery with apprehension. He wants this. He just doesn’t want it to be the last time.

Abruptly, the warmth and weight of Castiel above him lifts.

Dean blinks. “What?”

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Okay,” Dean says slowly, running a hand through Castiel’s hair. Castiell visibly relaxes, shoulders slumping a little. He takes a breath, and Dean waits, content to admire the sight above him.

“I want to move in with you.” Castiel’s eyes are wide, and serious, but he looks like he’s seconds away from losing his nerve. “I know it’s only been a few weeks, and you live with your brother and Charlie and Kevin and– look, I know it’s unreasonable but I… I’m fucking crazy about you. When I’m not with you, all I’m thinking about is the last time I was with you, and how quickly I can get everything else over with before I can be with you again.”

Dean gapes, at a complete loss for words. “Cas…” he manages weakly before Castiel shuts him up with a kiss.

Which is just as well. Castiel doesn’t need to hear the self-loathing drivel or the stupid flimsy excuses Dean would make.

“I’m in love with you, Dean Winchester,” Castiel whispers, pressed against Dean’s lips between kisses, so Dean has no choice but to accept them.

He didn’t think he’d ever feel so torn– but he’s not. He’s distinctly happy. He’s fucking elated. All the other stuff, that’s life, and that’s bullshit, but he’s here. Dean is present in this moment where… he’s in love with a man who loves him back, and it’s something he never thought he’d have. But he does. And it’s fucking amazing.

“Dean?”

“Yeah,” he says, sounding gruff.

Castiel looks worried. So anxious. Dean can’t bear it.

“I…” he tries, but the words stick in his throat. He’s such a coward. “I feel the same way, Cas.”

Castiel doesn’t relax. “But…?”

“But nothing.”

It’s kind of awesome to see the hope and happiness dawn on Castiel’s face. “Really? You swear? I mean it, Dean. Don’t keep something that's bothering you about us, or me, from me. Please.”

“You just surprised me, Cas,” he says. And it’s true. The rest of it, that can come up later. Or maybe never. He watches the tension leave Castiel’s shoulders and smiles.

  
  
  
  
  


Dean staunchly refuses to think about it.

He’s no stranger to denying himself. He knows how to do that. He doesn’t want to anymore. Cas makes him want to indulge himself a little.

And if he really wanted to, Dean could justify the move.

(Sam’s landed a summer  internship that turned into a cushy part-time gig that pays pretty decently. He’s still got Cas’ old TA job, so that’s taken care of his tuition. Kevin and Charlie will still be his roommates, so he’s not saddled with rent and expenses he can’t handle. Besides, at an overgrown twenty-four, it’s time for Sam to fly the nest.)

He doesn’t.

  
The year passes in a blink, seasons fading away gradually. Dean actually kinda loves his job. The CVS across the street closes. Sam graduates and starts working full time.

Castiel is a bright sun at the center of this newfound life. It’s a relationship like Dean never knew it could be. Castiel is friend and confidant, but he’s also mentor and witness, and yeah, Dean has to admit, he is also a lover. They kiss and make love, but they also bicker and argue, and they fight and make up. Dean screws up, as expected, and for some dumb reason Castiel forgives him.

Cas tells him he loves him.

And Dean holds onto it with everything he has.

He relishes waking up with Cas, whether it’s to a shock of bedhead under his chin or an erection nestled between his thighs, or a stubborn arm or leg wound around his person. He loves coming home to find Castiel’s innocent attempts at domesticity– slightly burnt lasagna on the table, the laundry Dean had done and dumped on the bed in a hurry carefully folded and put away, and on one memorable occasion, a disaster in the kitchen, and pie on the coffee table.

Right now, Dean’s contemplating getting out of bed to make breakfast. He’s happy. In his entire life he hasn’t had a year as happy as this one. The one he’s spent with Castiel, sharing an apartment. A life.

“No,” Cas grumbles, pushing his head under Dean’s arm to force Dean onto his back so Cas can nestle up against his side. “Don’t go.”

Dean puts up a token protest. “But I’m hungry.”

Cas blinks at him sleepily. There are sleep lines on his cheek and grit in the corners of his eyes. His breath is stale and Dean.

Dean loves him.

“I just realized something,” Castiel says, squinting at him.

“Lay it on me.” Dean pushes his fingers into Cas’ hair and braces himself for some meandering philosophical musing about the purpose of life. Or bees. It’s too early for Dean to process it properly, but he’s always game to hear the gravelly timbre of Castiel’s voice.

Cas sighs, leaning into the touch like a cat. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Dean hums in agreement before his brain catches up and record scratches to a halt.

“You wanna get married?” Dean asks, after a few moments of stunned silence.

Castiel shrugs. “Sure. It’s just a formality.”

Dean can’t resist teasing him. “You wanna be my wife.”

“I don’t care what you want to call me or the ceremony to formalize it - or even if we decide not to do it. I just know that I want to be with you. If you’ll have me.”

Castiel sounds so serious, so perfectly earnest, it reminds Dean of the beginning. Of Castiel’s ill-fated trip to the drug store across the street. That first Thanksgiving. Castiel’s graduation. Every kiss and every promise in between.

And it’s Dean’s turn to roll his eyes.

Castiel actually pouts. Rests his chin on Dean’s chest and scowls. “I’m serious, Dean.”

Dean resists the urge to smile. “Yes.”

“What?”

“If you’re actually asking,” Dean elaborates with exaggerated patience. “I’m saying yes. Yes, I wanna do it. I’ll marry your dumb ass.”

**Author's Note:**

> I graduated last year, around this time, and that's when I started to write this story. It was a time in my life that was fraught with uncertainty. I didn't know what to do with my degree, or what was going to happen to me. I packed up everything I owned in 3 suitcases, moved out of the college town and never looked back. And well, here I am. Things didn't work out quite irl the way they did in this fic (for Castiel specifically), but they did work out. Happy endings all around. 
> 
> P.S.: (For anyone wondering, the town is DeKalb, IL. Shouldn't be too hard to extrapolate from there.)


End file.
